


Where the Light Meets the Darkness

by FrankenSpine



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Bisexuality, Blood and Gore, Cannibalism, Death, F/F, F/M, Fictional Religion & Theology, Genderbending, Good and Evil, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multi, Murder, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Planet Destruction, Pregnancy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Regina is a man in this story, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2020-06-26 13:52:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 13,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19769557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankenSpine/pseuds/FrankenSpine
Summary: In a world where the Earth no longer rotates, the King of the Dark Moon Empire firmly believes in the myths of the Sun and all its golden glory. One day, he decides he’s finally had enough and sets out with some of his closest companions to find the legendary Sunlight Kingdom. Instead, he finds something— or rather, someone— far more precious.





	1. Ragnarök

**Author's Note:**

> I had a request from an anonymous reader to write a story where Regina is gender-bent, and I've never written anything like that before, so I decided to go for it. I wanted to write the post-apocalyptic story I've had in the back of my mind for some time now, and I felt that adding the gender-bend element would make it more interesting. So, may I present to you, the ambitious King Regan:

Long ago, in the time before Ragnarök, it was said that the Earth rotated on its axis, encircling the sun at a steady rate. The tides ebbed and flowed gently onto the shorelines. All people experienced the golden glory of the sun, and the graceful glow of the moon. But then Ragnarök came to pass, and the Earth came to a halt.

Structures collapsed and crumbled. The ocean’s fury struck down on the terrified men, women, and children, drowning them and crushing them. The continents shifted together once more, crashing into one another at an alarmingly-rapid pace with a force so powerful that new mountains were formed. All clocks ceased to tick. Planes fell from the sky, burning up before they ever reached the ground. Many people died, along with most animals and plants.

One side of the Earth was trapped in perpetual sunlight. The other was forever frozen in darkness. Either way, food was scarce, and water was sacred. These sides were separated by the colossal mountains forged from the drifting of the lands.

Time went on, and eventually, both sides of the world gradually forgot about each other. The two realms of the Earth came to be known as the Sunlight Kingdom and the Dark Moon Empire, mere myths to one another. Some believed, but others did not. It was said that the people of the Sun lived in cities of shimmering gold and great riches, while those living in the Darklands lurched within the shadows like the vilest of beasts, with their demonic iron horses and their strange Gods who whispered to them within the darkness.

No one believed more strongly in the Sun than King Regan. He stared out the broken window into the distance, just as he did each time he rose from his slumber, and he scanned the horizon for any sign of the great flame, but as always, he saw only the gargantuan mountains, whose peaks reached the starry sky.

 _“Your Majesty?”_ came a voice.

The King turned to find his good friend, Jones, standing in the doorway. “Yes?”

“Lady Cora wishes to speak with you in the parlor.”

Regan sighed. “Of course she does,” he muttered, “I will be right there. Just let me get dressed.”

“Yes, Majesty.”

Jones closed the door, leaving the King alone once more. Regan threw on his black leather pants, boots, and his dark tunic. He went to the mirror and tied numerous crimson feathers into his long, dark hair and made his way into the parlor, where he found his mother waiting at a candlelit table.

“Mother,” he grunted.

The woman sipped her drink slowly. “Son,” she said after a beat.

“I was told you wished to speak to me.”

“I do.”

“Well, get to it then,” the King snapped, “I have much to do.”

His mother glared daggers at him. “You cannot speak to me in such a way. I am your mother.”

“And I am your King,” he said bitterly, “No thanks to you.”

“Will you ever get over this ridiculous grudge, Regan? I helped you become King. What more could you possibly ask for?”

“I never wanted to be King,” Regan told her, “but that is irrelevant now. Say whatever it is you wish to say, and be gone from me. As I said, I have plans.”

The woman scoffed. “What plans? Sitting around and drinking all day? Or obsessing over those myths of the great flame in the sky?”

“They are _not_ myths!” the King roared, “They are true! I just know it!”

“How? How do you know? Have you seen it with your own two eyes?”

Regan faltered a bit. “Well, no, but—”

“Then it is but a story to bring false hope to children. Speaking of which, that is precisely why I have come here. You need to find a wife, Regan. You need to have heirs to uphold your legacy.”

“Have you brought along some whore? I will not marry a woman I do not love. I refuse, Mother!”

Cora let out a rich laugh. _“Love?_ Marriage is not about love, you fool! It is about power and status.”

Regan bared his teeth at her in primal rage, storming up to her furiously. “I have the power here, Mother, for I am King. You had best watch your tongue, old woman,” he hissed, “I could have you imprisoned for speaking ill of the crown.”

He stumbled back in shock when his mother backhanded him with the speed of a vicious serpent. He glowered at her as he clutched his bearded face. His cheek stung like venom.

“You _bitch!”_ he shouted.

“Do not forget who it was who made you King in the first place! You should be grateful!”

The King laughed incredulously. “Grateful? You had my lover _killed!”_

“She was a mere slave!”

“It matters not! I loved her!”

“Well, that is no longer relevant. She is with the Gods now. If you truly love her, as you claim, then you should be eager to have children to inherit your crown and your throne when you are gone. Once you take your final breath, you can be with her in Eric’s Great Hall.”

“I should not have to wait until the afterlife to see her again! It isn’t fair!”

“Nothing is fair, you foolish little man. When will you see that?”

Regan started to turn away, but his mother grabbed his arm roughly.

“I am not finished speaking with you,” she hissed, “There are three women coming here to seek your hand in marriage. You must choose one of them, Regan. You have no choice.”

“I am the King. I can do whatever I desire, and what I desire, Mother, is _freedom,”_ said Regan, “Now that is the _end_ of the matter.”

Cora watched him go with a look of disdain. “They are coming here whether you like it or not, and they will not leave until you choose one of them as your wife.”

“Then I suppose they will just have to spend the rest of their lives here, because I will not marry any of them.”

“But you haven’t even met them!”

_“Exactly.”_

“Gods,” Cora muttered, “Why have you cursed me with such a stubborn child?”

Regan made his way down the corridor, fuming, and passed by Jones, who was watching him with an amused smirk.

“What is it this time, Your Majesty?”

The King huffed. “She nags me about marriage yet again,” he grumbled, “I will not marry who she tells me to marry. I will only wed a woman if I am in love with her. My mother must learn that she is not in control. _I am!_ And yet, she has summoned three women here to seek my hand, without even informing me of the matter! I am not her puppet, nor does she pull the strings!”

Jones patted his back. “What you need, my friend, is a beer.”

“No,” said the King, “What I _need_ is to visit the Sacred Mountains. I feel that I must pray for my own salvation, and also for a beautiful woman to love me and bear my children.”

“Then I shall accompany you,” said Jones.

Regan nodded. “Thank you,” he said, “I wish for the others to join us as well. Do you know where I can find them?”

“They are outside working on their horses.”

“When _aren’t_ they?” the King quipped.

He and Jones shared a laugh as they made their way out of the colossal palace. Torches were lit all around, and a handful of men and women were polishing the chrome armor of their horses.

 _“Your Majesty,”_ they greeted in unison.

The King smiled. “Friends,” he said, “you know you may call me Regan.”

“It just seems improper,” said one of the men.

“Not if it is a direct order from your King.”

“I suppose you are right.”

“Come. I wish to ride out to the Sacred Mountains.”

“Right now?”

“Yes. I must pray to the Gods for a blessing.”

“Very well. We will join you.”

“Excellent.”

The King mounted his iron horse and sped off into the dark desert, letting the bitter wind rush through his flowing hair. The light from his horse guided him through the shadows. The others rode alongside him. The deafening roar of the engines was music to his ears. It took them many hours to reach the Sacred Mountains, but when they did, it was well-worth the trek.

Regan approached the base of the tallest mountain and knelt down before it, bowing his head in respect. “Hear me, oh mighty Eric, Lord of the Gods, for I beg you, give me a woman to love and cherish, and who will provide me with heirs. I ask nothing more of you, Great One.”

Suddenly, a rock came down from the mountain and struck the King upon the head. He gasped and looked up quickly, fearing an avalanche. Had he angered the Gods? He couldn’t understand what he had done to incur their wrath.

But no avalanche came.

“Regan!” shouted Jones, “Look! Up there!”

The King squinted, and he swore he could see a figure coming down the side of the mountain. “By the Gods,” he rasped. His eyes grew wide as the figure’s features became clearer in the darkness. “It is a woman! Eric be praised! Help her down, quickly!”

His friends rushed over to the woman and got her down. Alas, she seemed to think they bore ill-intent, for she began flailing and crying out in fear.

“Please!” she cried, “Mercy!”

They set her down carefully, and she spun around with wide, fearful eyes.

“D-Don’t come any closer!”

She gasped when her back came in contact with something solid and she turned to find herself staring up at a tall, bearded man with crimson feathers in his unkempt hair. There was a split in one side of his mustache, revealing a faint scar on his lip. His eyes were as dark as his clothing, and yet, there was something about him that left her feeling a peculiar warmth amid her thighs. She tried to speak, but no sound ever came. Much to her surprise, the man knelt down before her and took hold of her delicate hands with a shocking tenderness.

“What is your name, oh beautiful one? Are you a Goddess? Could you perhaps be the Goddess Hath? Or Kono? Perhaps Osapa? Or even the blessed Weaver?”

“I— I am not a Goddess,” said the frightened woman with the head of gold, “My name is Emma. I am the Princess of the Sunlight Kingdom.”

The others murmured amongst themselves in awe, while the King’s eyes grew wide with wonder. “Princess,” he rasped. He stood up slowly so as to not startle her. “I am Regan, King of the Dark Moon Empire. Welcome. Tell me, Princess, is it true that there is such a thing as the Sun?”

“Of course there is a Sun,” said Emma. She was visibly confused. “Is there a Moon, as well?”

“But of course. Would you like to see it?”

“I would, yes. Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Please,” the King said softly. A smile tugged at his lips. “Call me Regan.”


	2. Empire

“Tell me, Princess,” said the King, “if you were not sent to me by the Gods, then why did you descend from the mountaintop? And why are you here all alone?”

“I— I ran away,” Emma confessed.

“Whatever for?”

“My mother and father wish for me to marry a Prince, but I have never even met him, and I do not wish to marry a complete stranger.”

“Then it would seem that you and I are not so different,” said Regan.

He studied the young woman for a moment. Aside from his deceased lover, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Her hair was long and shimmered as though it was woven from solid gold. Her eyes were a soft green, and they brought the King a sense of comfort.

“How old are you, Princess?”

“Twenty,” Emma said softly.

The King smiled. “Would you like to join me back at my palace? We do not have much in the way of food, aside from a decent stock of fish, and plenty of beer. Of course, there is also sweet wine, if that is what you prefer.”

“Is it far from here?”

“Just a few hours away,” said Regan, “You may ride with me on my horse.”

Emma offered a small nod and a faint smile. “That sounds nice.”

Regan looked to his friends and found that they were all kneeling and giving praise. Emma followed his gaze and her brows furrowed in confusion.

“What are they doing?”

“Praying to the Gods,” said the King, “as I was doing when you appeared.”

“I do not know of any Gods,” Emma told him, “My people do not hold such beliefs.”

“Then allow me to teach you.” Regan placed a firm hand upon her shoulder. “These are the Sacred Mountains, placed here by the Gods themselves. The strongest of the Gods is the mighty Eric, and so he is their King. There is a sacred temple near my palace, known as the Bank of Eric. In it is a great deal of treasure and other ancient artifacts. We are permitted only to look, but not touch, for if we do, the spirits shriek in fury, alerting the God King to our transgressions.”

Soon, the others were finished praying, and so they all took off on their iron horses. Emma climbed onto the King’s horse, sitting behind him.

“Hold tight to me, Princess.”

Emma did as he said, hooking her arms around his midriff and gasping as he sped off through the darkness. The ride back to the palace was relatively silent, minus the sound of the iron horses roaring across the cold sand.

When they finally reached their destination, Emma was in awe of Regan’s palace. It was by far the tallest building she had ever seen. It shimmered in the moonlight, as well as the orange flicker of the torches at its base. It looked to have been built from solid steel.

“Welcome to my Empire, Princess,” said the King, “That is the name of this great palace, and rightly so, for it withstood Ragnarök. See how it reaches towards the Heavens? I believe this was once the home of Gods, but they left it behind for me and my people, and so I am truly blessed.”

“Empire,” the blonde murmured, “It is beautiful.”

“It is,” Regan agreed, “but is it as beautiful as your cities of gold?”

Emma shook her head in confusion. “We have no such cities.”

“Hm. Then what do they look like?”

“In truth? Not all that different from your own. It is just much brighter.”

“What do you think of this side of the world?”

“I think it is nice. Calm. Quiet. Not so unbearably-hot. Yes, I believe I could learn to like it here.”

Regan’s lips curled into a faint smile. “I pray it will be so,” he said softly as he climbed off of his horse. He offered a hand to the Princess. “Come. Let me show you around.”

Emma took his hand, and found herself overcome with a sense of peace. As intimidating as this King may have been at the start, he was behaving like a real gentleman. When they entered the building alongside the other Darkland dwellers, Regan and Emma found themselves confronted by a brunette who bore a disapproving scowl.

“Regan,” the old woman said bitterly, “What is the meaning of this? Who is this girl? Another cheap whore?”

Emma scoffed. “Excuse me?”

Regan glared at the brunette. “Mother! This is Princess Emma. She hails from the Sunlight Kingdom.”

Cora was visibly taken aback. “W-What? But, it isn’t real!”

“It _is,_ Mother,” said the King, “and she is proof! We all saw her descend from the mountains!”

Cora arched an eyebrow at this. _“We?”_

“Jones, Red, and the others,” said Regan.

“It is true, Lady Cora,” said Jones, “We were all there. Praise be to the Gods.”

“Aye,” said Regan, “Praise be to the Gods!”

* * *

After showing Emma around, Regan eventually came across his bedroom. He turned to her with a sly smirk. “There is still one room we have not yet explored,” he said.

“Oh?” asked the naïve Princess.

The King pushed open the door to reveal a number of damaged dressers, a cracked mirror, and a bed that was nothing more than an old mattress with worn quilts covering its stained surface. Regan looked to the blushing blonde with desire in his eyes.

“What say you, Princess?” he husked, “Would you like to become a Queen?”

“I— I don’t know,” Emma said quickly, “I just ran away from one marriage. I am unsure if I want to pledge my loyalty to a man just yet.”

“Loyalty is a rare commodity,” said the King. He lifted Emma’s chin gently, stunning her. “But you, Princess, are far more valuable. I will not force you to marry me if you do not wish it, but if you were to, say, lose your precious maidenhood, then no filthy Prince would want to enslave you in the bonds of unwilling matrimony.”

“And you? You will not enslave me?”

“Never. I have always detested slavery. Besides, you are far more valuable to me as a Princess than as a slave.” Regan nipped softly at the shell of her ear. “You do not have to marry me, but I do believe you would make a wonderful mother to my children.”

Emma’s eyes were wide as they stared into his. “Y-You want me to bear your children?”

The King’s smile grew wider. “I would like nothing more,” he murmured, “What do you say? Would you like a more _intimate_ tour of my room?”

“Will it hurt?”

“Only for a moment, sweet Princess. I will be as gentle as I can, and if I am not, then I will do better, for you, Emma.”

“And if I give you my maidenhood, what will you do for me in return?”

“Losing one’s maidenhood is much more than a one-sided experience,” said Regan, “but if you allow me to take you, then I swear to you, in the name of Eric, and of all the other Gods, that I will protect you from any and all danger, and I will love and cherish you with all my heart, black as it may be.”

Emma hesitated, but only for a moment. “Alright,” she said, clasping her hands around the King’s, “Take me.”

Regan bowed his head to her and let her into the room first. “After you, Princess.”

“Please,” rasped the blonde, “just call me Emma.”

“Of course,” said the King, _“Emma.”_

And he gently closed the door behind her.


	3. Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty dark and gruesome. Fair warning.

Emma was on her back, staring up into the King’s eyes with uncertainty. He offered a soft smile in an attempt to reassure her.

“There is no reason to be nervous,” he told her, “I will make you feel like a Goddess.”

“If I ask you to stop,” Emma rasped, “will you stop?”

Regan nodded. “Of course,” he said, “but I hope it will not come to that. You are a beautiful woman, Emma. I look forward to making you mine.”

Emma gave a quiet hum. _“Mine,”_ she murmured.

Regan cupped her face with one hand and held her hip with the other. He pressed his lips to hers in a hungry kiss, and was pleased to hear the soft moan that escaped her. He fumbled with her tattered dress, pushing it back to reveal her slender legs. His eyes were eclipsed with desire.

“You are truly beautiful,” he whispered, “Are you sure you are not a Goddess?”

“There is not a doubt in my mind,” said Emma.

Regan just chuckled and brought his lips to the blonde’s neck, earning yet another moan. “Goddess or not, I am blessed to be the first to know this exquisite body of yours.”

He lined himself up and slowly pushed his way into her. His movements were slow so that she could accommodate his girth. Seeing her wince and hearing the whimper that fell from her lips, he paused, staring into her eyes with obvious concern.

“Do you wish for me to stop? If I push just a bit further, you will no longer be a maiden.”

Emma just nodded. “Then do it,” she breathed, “Take me.”

“Yes, my Princess.”

Regan slipped even deeper into her warmth, and blood began to ooze between the Princess’ legs. She gasped in a mix of pain and pleasure, but before the King could pause to ask if she was alright, she hooked her arms around his neck and drew him close to her.

 _“More,”_ she husked.

A low groan escaped Regan as he began to thrust into the future mother of his children.

Little did he know, several of his strongest warriors had been sent out to the Sacred Mountains to seek out more of these ‘Sun People,’ per the orders of the ever-furious Lady Cora. In the hours Regan spent giving a tour of the Empire to the Princess and filling her womb with his abundant seed, his warriors had found not one of these strange creatures, but rather, _three._ They brought the three strangers— forcefully— back to the palace, where they were met by Cora.

“Lady Cora,” one of the warriors grunted, “What shall we do with them?”

A devilish smirk crept onto Cora’s painted lips. “Cut their heads from their bodies.”

“Wait!” cried one of the Sun People, “We come in peace! We are here for Princess Emma! She is to be married in a month’s time! Please, have mercy!”

 _“Mercy?”_ asked Cora, “I know of no such word. I care not who you are, or why you are here. My son appears to have taken a liking to this Princess of yours, and I will not allow you to ruin his chances of producing heirs. If she is royalty, as you say, then she will surely be a good match for him. I pray the Gods will bless them with many a child.” She waved at them dismissively. “Away with you, now. Make peace with your Gods, for you shall meet them soon enough.”

* * *

Sometime later, Regan was lying next to the spent Princess, smiling warmly at her. “How are you feeling?” he asked her.

“My body aches,” she said, “and yet, it feels quite nice. I enjoyed it very much.”

Regan chuckled, biting playfully at her shoulder and pulling her close to him. “Your scent enthralls me, sweet Princess. How I revel in it.”

Emma started to respond, but she was cut off by the sound of Jones’ voice coming from the other side of the door.

_“Your Majesty? Lady Cora insists that you and the Princess come down for dinner. She says we are having a feast.”_

Regan frowned in confusion. “A feast? Have you all gone hunting?”

_“No, my King.”_

“Fishing, then?”

_“No. I do not know where this food has come from. She did not say.”_

“I find that suspicious,” said Regan, “but I am quite famished. Tell her we shall be there shortly.”

_“Of course.”_

Jones walked away, and Regan looked to Emma apologetically, kissing her lightly upon the cheek. He smiled uncontrollably as she laughed, and he knew then that he would do anything to hear it again.

“What is so funny?” he asked, visibly amused.

“Your mustache,” Emma told him, “It tickles me.”

The King chuckled and kissed her once more, drawing forth yet another laugh. “Will you join me for dinner?”

“Of course. I haven’t eaten since I left my kingdom.”

“Then you must be starving. Come. Let us get dressed so that we may head to the dining hall.”

Emma managed to slip back into her dress, which the King had nearly torn from her body, but she found it difficult to stand, much less walk. Regan noticed this and swept her off her feet, holding her up bridal style. This caused the Princess to yelp in surprise.

“You are hurt. I cannot allow you to walk.”

“I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Perhaps,” said the King, “but I still forbid it. I cannot bear to see you in such pain.”

“You care that much for my well-being?”

“Of course. You may very well be carrying my child as we speak.”

Emma’s face grew red. “I would not be surprised,” she said.

Regan carried her to the dining hall, where dozens of others were gathered at the various tables. He sat her down in an empty, padded chair alongside his own, which was the biggest chair in the room. It stood on five legs and rotated. He retrieved a can of beer and took a big gulp as he stood up to address his people.

“Welcome, all, to this wonderful feast my mother has arranged for us. I know not where she procured this food, but still, I am blessed. It seems the Gods smile upon us yet! Not only have they provided me a woman, they have provided me a Princess from the legendary Sunlight Kingdom, on the opposite side of the Sacred Mountains! Praise be to the Gods, for they have been most generous!”

Everyone else raised their drinks. _“Praise be to the Gods!”_

“Now let us savor this bountiful food!”

They all tore into the meat, finding it almost addictive, and all the while, Cora hid her smirk behind her cup of wine as she sipped it slowly. Her eyes were locked onto Emma like those of a predator. How it pleased her to see the naïve blonde tearing the tender meat from the bone.

Later, after everyone had their fill, Cora turned to Regan and Emma expectantly. “Come,” she said, leaving no room for debate, “Follow me outside.”

Confused but curious, the pair walked out of the palace with her and were mortified to find the severed heads of three men on spikes along the edge of the road.

“Mother! What is the meaning of this?!”

“While you two were busy rutting like a couple of beasts, I had some of your finest warriors go out to the Sacred Mountains, and lo and behold, they brought back more of these ‘Sun People.’”

“And you had them killed?!”

“But of course,” Cora said without a shred of remorse, “Had I not, they would have taken your _precious Princess_ back to their side of the world.”

“Since when do you care if she stays or goes?” Regan snapped.

“I cared when I realized she would be perfect for you, my dear child.”

The King’s fists tightened, as did his jaw. “Mother,” he said quietly, “where are the rest of these men?”

A catlike grin spread across the brunette’s face. “I think you know _exactly_ where they are.”

Emma cried out in horror, turning away and expelling the contents of her stomach onto the ground. Tears slipped down her reddened face as the bitter taste— and oh Gods, the _smell—_ overwhelmed her senses.

“You are absolutely _mad!”_ cried the King, “Why would you do such a thing?! We are not animals, Mother!”

“But we _are_ starving, Regan! All we have ever eaten is fish! Our people are sick and dying from malnutrition! It was only a matter of time before we would need to resort to such measures! And it is not the first time this has happened!”

Disgust masked Regan’s face. “When?” he seethed, “When was the last time, Mother?!”

“During your coronation! I had many of the slaves killed so that the rest of us could eat! I did it for you, Regan! And I made sure that _whore_ of yours was somewhere on the table!”

Blind fury overtook the King, and in one swift motion, he grabbed the dagger from his belt and lunged at his mother, stabbing her through the heart. Both she and Emma let out blood-curdling screams, but he did not let up. He stabbed Cora again, and again, and _again,_ even after he was certain she was dead. Then, he went to work parting her head from the rest of her body, and he stuck it on another spike in the ground. When he turned around, he saw that Emma had collapsed.

He hoisted the blonde up over his broad shoulder and dragged his mother’s headless corpse by the ankle into his palace, leaving behind a trail of blood. Everyone gasped as they saw him. His face and hands were covered in Cora’s blood. His eyes burned with sheer hatred.

“It has just come to my attention that this feast was not, in fact, a blessing from the Gods, but a vile travesty brought about by my own mother. What we have eaten this night is the flesh of men, not of beasts! From here on out, I forbid this grotesque practice! Never did I think I would have to make such a demand! But on this night, I shall make an exception!” He slung the headless corpse in front of him. “This is the body of the woman I once called _Mother!_ Do what you will with it! I care not!”

And with that, he disappeared into his room with the unconscious Princess still draped over his shoulder.


	4. Treason

When Emma awoke, she found herself in a tub with a cool, damp cloth draped across her head. She was naked, and the water was lukewarm at best. She groaned involuntarily, drawing the attention of the King. He approached her, equally-naked, and knelt down beside her.

“You lost consciousness,” he said quietly, “Are you well?”

Emma stared at him for a moment, and her eyes grew wide as the memory of what he had done came flooding back into her mind. “You— You killed your own mother,” she rasped.

“I no longer see her as my mother,” said Regan, “She betrayed me in the cruelest of ways. She deserved to die.” He stared deep into Emma’s eyes. “Do you fear me, Princess?”

“I— I fear your wrath.”

“You have done nothing to incur it,” he told her, “I will not harm you. You were not the one who fooled me into eating the flesh of men. I am many things, Emma, but a savage is not one of them. I did what I did because it was necessary. It will not happen again.”

“Cora mentioned a woman, or a ‘whore’, as she so crudely put it. Did you love this woman?”

“I did,” said Regan, “Very much so. Her name was Danielle. She was a slave woman, about your age when Cora had her killed. I was still a Prince back then. I only just discovered that I may have— _Gods above—_ consumed her flesh. It sickens me more than words can ever say, but there is nothing left in my stomach to expel. It is true that my people are hungry, but I will not stand for such barbarism. I knew Cora was coldhearted. I just had no idea she was such a ruthless hag.”

He cupped Emma’s cheek gently, looking into her frightened eyes with great remorse.

“I do not regret taking her life,” he confessed, “I only wish that I had not done it before your innocent eyes. You should not have been made to witness such a thing, sweet Princess. Can you forgive me?”

“You made no threat against my life or my well-being,” Emma rasped, “and so there is nothing to forgive.”

“Are you certain?”

Emma gave a small nod. “I am,” she said, “and I am also cold.”

“Then let us warm you up,” said Regan.

He lifted her out of the tub with ease and helped her to her feet, wrapping a thick blanket around her. He stepped up behind her as she faced the cracked mirror and hooked his arms around her midriff, holding her close to him. She could feel his manhood pressing against her, but she said nothing. They locked eyes within the reflection of the mirror.

“You do not wish to run away again, do you?” the King murmured, “I pray it is not so.”

“I am done running,” Emma told him, “You swore that you would protect me, and you have taken my virginity, so I shall stay with you, _my King.”_

Regan smiled. “And I swore that I would not force your hand, but if I were to ask you to be my Queen, what would you say?”

“I would say that I need time to think about it.”

Regan leaned down and kissed her shoulder softly. “Then I shall await your decision, _my Princess.”_

* * *

Later, as Emma slept soundly in his bed, Regan quietly left the room to go and see what had become of Cora’s body. It was strung up by the ankles, swaying a bit as it hung from the ceiling. Blood dripped from the severed neck like water from a leaf. Cora’s dress had been torn away. There was no telling where it was now, or what had been done with it. There was a word carved crudely into the old woman’s chest. Regan had to tilt his head to make sense of it.

_MONSTER._

Suddenly, he heard a voice behind him. _“Regan.”_

He turned to find Jones standing there was a look of concern. “Ah, Jones. You startled me.”

“Apologies, my King. I have come to inform you of potential treason.”

Regan scowled. _“What did you say?”_ he hissed.

“I was told by the Seer that not everyone here agrees with your decision to outlaw the consumption of men. He said they were angry because there is little food, and they need to eat.”

“I will send a handful of men to find more food,” said Regan, “but I will _not_ allow my kingdom to resort to savagery. We may be primitive, but we still have our dignity. Do you know the names of those who seek to commit treason?”

“I know of only one,” said Jones.

Regan’s eyes were alight with determination. “Tell me.”

“The one called Pan.”

The King scoffed. “The _boy?”_

“Yes,” said Jones, “I fear he and his lackeys may be plotting to overthrow you.”

Regan grit his teeth in primal rage. “Have them interrogated. Imprison those who confess. Kill those who do not.”

Jones bowed his head. “Yes, Your Majesty.” And he strode away, leaving the King alone once more.

Regan made his way back to his room, where he found the bed empty. He quickly made his way into the latrine and was relieved to find Emma standing in front of the mirror, staring at her naked figure in wonder. She turned to him with a soft smile as he entered the room.

“Hello,” she murmured.

The King’s features softened. “Princess,” he rasped, “What are you doing?”

“Just studying my body,” Emma told him, “wondering if I am with child.”

“Do you feel any different?”

“I do,” said the Princess, “though I assume it is just because I am no longer a maiden.”

Regan lifted her chin gently, kissing her. “Does it excite you? The thought of being a mother?”

“It does,” said Emma, “I have just been looking for the right man to have children with.”

“And have you found him?”

Emma’s smile widened. “I believe I have.”

* * *

Later, as they were curled up together, Regan murmured, “Why did your mother and father name you Emma?”

Emma shook her head. “I don’t know. I suppose they just liked the name. Why?”

“My people are often named after places in the city. There are also old signs that designate certain areas. My father’s name comes from the street of Henry.”

“And Cora’s?”

“Somewhere in the kingdom, there is a sign covered in rust, so I do not know the full name, but the only letters left visible are C-O-R-A.”

“And what about you?” Emma asked softly.

The King smiled. “My mother and father wished for me to be blessed, and so they named me after a God.”

“So Regan is one of your Gods?”

“He is among the most powerful. He was one of Eric’s great generals in the War of Light and Shadow. He was a strong leader, who rode upon the back of a bloody elephant.”

“Elephant?” asked Emma.

“A colossal beast,” said Regan, “There were once many of them, all rounded up in corrals. They had but one eye to see, and long, sharp tusks that protruded outward like those of a wild boar.”

“Will you show me?”

“Another time,” said Regan, “It is a good ways away, and I am tired.”

“Very well,” Emma murmured.

She rested her head onto the King’s chest, and he held her gently. Though his outward actions were affection, his insides were ablaze with fury. Despite feeling exhausted, he barely got a moment’s rest. He just listened to the serene sounds of the Princess’ steady breath until finally, he drifted into a deep slumber.

* * *

Jones folded his arms as he watched Jefferson whip Pan’s most loyal follower, Felix. “If you do not tell us what you know, you will be killed!”

“Then go ahead and kill me!” cried Felix, “I know nothing of any treason!”

“The Seer told me otherwise.”

“The Seer is a madman! And so are you, for believing him! I am innocent! I swear it in the name of the Gods!”

Jones held up his hand, and Jefferson ceased the torture. For now. “If you confess, Felix, you will be spared, but imprisoned. It would be in your best interest to tell us the truth.”

Tears slipped down the young man’s face. “I _am_ telling the truth,” he rasped, “Please, no more of this. I swear to the mighty Eric, I am not involved in any sort of treason. I would do anything for His Majesty. He is a most gracious King.”

“That he is,” said Jones, “and you have no quarrel with his new law against consuming your fellow man?”

“Why would I have such a quarrel? I would never knowingly eat another man! It is cruel! It is barbaric!”

“Do you know anyone who might say otherwise?”

“Y-You mean anyone who would eat a human?”

“That’s right.”

“There is only one person I can think of who might do such a thing,” said Felix, “and that would be Adair. He has always been rather feral. It is said that he once lived among wolves.”

“And where might I find him?” asked Jones.

“I rarely see him, but each time I do, he is usually up on the top level, sir.”

“Unchain him,” said Jones, “and put him in a cell. I will send some of the men to find Adair.”

Jefferson bowed his head. “Yes, sir.”


	5. Zoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think the perfect song, not just for this chapter, but for the story as a whole, is "Amour" by Rammstein, one of my favorite bands (I'm a sucker for German music, especially metal). That's where the line 'love is a wild animal' comes from, if you translate it into English.

_The feeling of warm lips around his manhood made Regan shudder and groan, and when he looked up, he found a pair of lustful, sea-green eyes staring him dead in the face. He tightened his fists in the sheets and bucked his hips uncontrollably, causing his shaft to slide even deeper into that warm, wet mouth. He grunted as he reached the peak of desire._

Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, and the King found himself fully-erect beneath the warm quilts. He turned to find the Princess sleeping soundly beside him and he quietly made his way to the latrine to relieve himself (among other things). He emerged sometime later with his hands scrubbed clean to find Emma sitting up with her arms stretched above her head.

He smiled warmly at her. “Hello, Princess. I trust you slept well?”

“I did,” she said.

“Good.” He slipped on a dark tunic, which he tucked into his tight pants, and a cloak of black fur. “Come. I wish to have breakfast, and would like you to join me.”

Emma smiled back at him and nodded. “Of course.”

Once dressed, she linked arms with him and they walked into the dining hall together to enjoy a bit of fish. After the two of them finished their breakfast, the King turned to the beautiful blonde with a soft smile.

“I will take you to the graveyard of the ancient beasts,” he said, “They no longer live among us, but their remains lie undisturbed. We must not touch them, for it may anger the Gods.”

Emma rode with Regan through the dark ruins of the city on the iron horse until they came upon the Graveyard of the Beasts.

“This place is called ‘Zoo,’” said Regan, “It is most sacred.”

They entered, and the King led Emma to a large corral where the colossal skulls and bones of ancient beasts laid scattered across the ground.

“These are Elephants,” he explained, “See how their skulls hold but a single eye. I wish I could have seen them when they were among the living.” He walked over to the next pen and pointed to the remains of much smaller creatures. “I believe these are called _Tigers._ Powerful animals with teeth that could tear through flesh like a knife through butter. It is said that their hide was ablaze with eternal flames.”

“Did they not suffer?”

“No. They were strong, noble beasts,” said the King, “My father always wore a necklace made from their fangs, hoping it would bring him great honor and courage. He was wearing it when I buried him.”

“May I ask how he died?”

“He was an old man,” Regan said quietly, “He died peacefully in his slumber. It seems that the Gods accepted him with open arms. I feel there is no greater way to leave this world. He was strong. He must have been, for he lived a long life. That is rare. I pray I live just as long.”

Emma placed a gentle hand on his arm, which made him smile. “As do I,” she murmured.

Regan held her close, and together, they stared up at the shimmering stars and the moon overhead.

“One day,” the King told her, “the moon will collide with this dying planet of ours, and we will all perish along with it.”

Emma’s heartbeat quickened, and she sucked in a fearful breath. “It is said that the sun shall someday explode, and all will burn in the fire.”

Regan hugged her just a bit tighter. “Let us not think about it too much,” he said, “We must focus on the present, my dear.”

* * *

Later, after returning from Zoo, Regan left Empire and walked silently to Zero, where the great Cross still stood. He placed his hands upon it and closed his eyes.

“Eric,” he murmured, “Please, mighty one, let not my kingdom turn its back on me. I desire to be a good King and an even greater father, and if Emma should decide to be my Queen, then I pray that I shall be a good husband, as well. She is the only woman who has held my heart within her tender hands.”

 _“It is not your kingdom that has turned its back on you, Your Majesty,”_ came the childlike voice of a man.

Regan slowly raised his head and turned to find a wild-eyed old man limping out from within the darkness. “Seer,” he said, “What do you mean by this?”

The Seer cackled dementedly. “It is those closest to you that seek your destruction. Lady Cora was preventing such betrayal, but you had to go and destroy her. What a fool you are.”

Regan was furious. “Watch your tongue, old man! I am your King!”

“Yes,” the Seer conceded, “but you are also a man. Though your namesake was a God, you, King Regan, are only human. Your time on this Earth is limited, especially now that you have doomed your people to starve.”

“What would you have me do?!” Regan shouted, “Feed my own people to their kinsmen?! I will do no such thing!”

Again, the Seer began to laugh like a madman. “Then you have dug your own grave, my King. There is an old saying, from before the Gods cursed the Earth. _Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.”_

Regan frowned. “How am I to know who my enemies are?”

“Who was it who told you of the treason?”

“It was—” Regan’s heart sank, “It was Jones.”

The Seer just grinned at him. “Start there.”

“He would never do such a thing! He is my friend! I have loved him as though he was my brother!”

“Love is a wild animal,” said the Seer, “If you are not careful, it will sink its fangs into your heart and eat you alive.”

* * *

Regan’s fist collided with Jones’ jaw, knocking the mortified man to the ground.

“Regan!” he cried, “Why are you doing this?!”

“You have betrayed me!” the King roared, “You seek my throne, do you?! You traitorous wretch! I thought we were friends, you and I, but you are nothing more than a coward and a liar! I will not tolerate such treachery! Who else has conspired to overthrow me?! Answer me!”

“You— You are mistaken, my King! I would do no such thing!”

“Then you are saying the Seer has lied?”

Jones’ blood ran cold. “Th-The Seer?” he rasped.

“That’s right,” said Regan, “He told me everything. Well, mostly. I need you to tell me the rest, Jones. If you do, then I will spare your life. I swear it in the name of Eric. Now then, who else wishes to usurp my throne?”

Jones swallowed.

* * *

The traitors— save for Jones— were all executed before the public. Some were mortified. Others were fascinated. Some were even aroused. The rest wore unreadable masks. Regan showed no remorse as he climbed up onto a metal pole where light had once shone. He stared out at the mixed faces with blood painting his hair and flesh. His dark eyes were cold like ice.

“It is said that love is a wild animal,” he told them, “Well, so is hatred. You cannot have one without the other. Neither can be tamed.”

* * *

That night, Regan drove himself into Emma with an intense ferocity, and as she looked deep into his eyes, she wasn’t so sure that he was never a resident of _Zoo._


	6. Demons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: rape/non-con 
> 
> It was foreshadowed in the previous chapter.
> 
> Also, character deaths (but well-deserved).

In his anger, the three women coming to court him completely slipped the King’s mind. He was not quite sure what to make of them. One was a tall blonde clad in dark robes with a black dragon tattooed across her chest. The next was a dark-skinned woman in a tattered, green dress. They were both very beautiful. That, he could not deny. The last, however, was certainly _something._

Regan could not bring himself to fancy her. She was tall, thin, and lanky. Half her hair was black. The other half was white. Her figure appeared fuller as she was draped in animal pelts. She wore her makeup like war-paint, and it left the King unsettled. She looked like a ghost. A demon, perhaps. Had she come all this way to haunt him? He was wary of her, and so was Emma.

In fact, Emma was wary of all three. She regarded them with hatred and jealousy, for she feared they would steal the King’s affection. She feared he would abandon her, and so she was going to do everything in her power to prevent this. A wave of nausea washed over her. It had been happening a lot lately, and her mood swings were sporadic, but she wasn’t sure why.

As she entered the King’s room, Emma found him hunched over on his bed, staring out the window. He was shirtless.

“Regan?” she murmured.

The King turned and offered a faint smile. “Emma,” he said softly, “Come and sit with me.”

The blonde did so, looking at him with uncertainty. “I have been ill as of late,” she said, “I fear I may have eaten something I should not have.”

Regan was quiet for a moment as he studied her figure. “Have you noticed any changes in your body?”

“Changes? Um, my breasts have swelled a bit.”

Joyful tears welled in Regan’s eyes, and he brought a hand to her stomach. “Then you may very well be pregnant,” he said, “I am truly blessed.” He slammed his lips against hers in a hungry kiss. “Apologies. _We_ are blessed.”

Emma smiled, and her eyes were alight with hope and wonder. “I am with child,” she rasped. Her arms slipped around Regan’s shoulders, hugging him gently. “Then we must be wedded at once.”

Regan was in awe. “So you will marry me?”

Emma nodded enthusiastically, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Yes,” she breathed, “Yes, I will marry you.”

“Then we shall be married in a week’s time,” declared the King, “and the celebration shall be perfect.”

* * *

Regan was enjoying his breakfast when the tall blonde, Maleficent, approached him.

“So, Your Majesty,” she purred, “Where is Lady Cora? I was hoping to speak with her.”

Regan pushed his plate aside, no longer feeling hungry. “You will not find her here,” he said bitterly, “or anywhere.”

Maleficent frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Her spirit has left this world for a place much, _much_ darker.”

“I see. What was the cause of her death?”

Regan leaned forward, lowering his voice. “I parted her head from her shoulders,” he whispered, “and I would gladly do it again, if given the chance.”

“May I ask why?”

“Because she betrayed me and my people in the sickest of ways.” He stood up. “That is all I will say. If you will excuse me, I must see to my future wife.”

Maleficent’s frown deepened. “Who is she? Ursula? Cruella?”

“No,” Regan said firmly, “I will not be marrying any of you. I did not ask you to come here. I will not force you to leave, but I will ask you to respect me, for I am your King, as well as your host.”

“Can I at least know who it is you wish to marry?”

“The Princess of the Sunlight Kingdom.”

Maleficent’s eyes grew wide. “The Sunlight Kingdom? You mean it is _real?”_

Regan nodded. “Yes,” he said, “and hopefully one day, we shall _all_ see the light.”

Maleficent watched him as he left, and she was in awe of this beast of a man, with his long dark hair and his rugged beard, and the way his eyes gleamed in the firelight. She lusted after him. If she could not be his Queen, then she at least wanted a go at him. Surely he would give her the chance. She knew she was a beautiful woman, and judging by the way he looked at her, it was clear that he knew it, too. A sly smirk crept its way onto her lips.

* * *

Later, as the King was drinking his beer, he frowned, thinking it tasted different, and tossed it away. He feared he may have been poisoned. His vision began to blur, and he lost his balance. He collapsed onto the ground, and just before the darkness engulfed him, he swore he saw the painted face of the demon grinning at him.

He awoke to the feeling of warm lips around his manhood, and for a moment— just one moment— he found it to be enjoyable, but then he lifted his head and the pleasure was snuffed out by sheer horror as he found himself staring into the lustful eyes of Maleficent. He let out a cry of fury and went to throw her off of him, but his wrists and ankles were bound tightly to the wooden posts of a broken bedframe. His eyes were wide with terror and rage.

“Get your filthy carcass away from me, witch!” he roared, “I am your King! Release me at once!”

Maleficent raised her head and laughed, but she was not alone in her mirth. Two others laughed as well, and as they stepped out from the shadows, Regan knew he was in trouble. It was Ursula and the demon, Cruella. No. They were _all_ demons, the King realized.

“If you will not wed us, then the least you can do is bless us with your seed,” said Maleficent. She straddled his lap, impaling herself on his cock, and she moaned. “Yes,” she rasped, “Your children will be as strong and as handsome as you, _Your Majesty.”_

Regan squeezed his eyes shut, not wishing to look at her a moment more. His body was responding positively to it, but as for his mind, this was pure torture. He tried to pretend it was Emma, but it was impossible, for his beloved Princess would never do such a thing.

“What kind of a man are you? You cannot even look at the woman who wishes to please you!”

Regan grit his teeth, but said nothing. He was breathing heavily. Tears were slipping down his cheeks.

“You are pathetic!” Maleficent spat, “Just _look_ at you! Weeping like a child! You do not deserve to call yourself _King!”_

He wasn’t sure how long it lasted, but it seemed like an eternity of the worst kind of torment— that which could not be seen, only felt. No blood was drawn. Had the situation been different, he might have enjoyed it, but this? This was degradation at its worst. He felt nauseous. He felt like crawling into a hole and never showing his face again. He barely noticed when he involuntarily spilled his seed into the treacherous witch, but not long after, he heard a scream.

It was Emma.

Hearing this caused his bloodshot eyes to snap open, and he looked to the Princess pleadingly.

“Emma,” he said hoarsely, “Do something. _Please.”_

Infuriated, Emma spotted the King’s dagger and swiped it from the floor alongside his scattered clothing. She charged towards Maleficent with a cry of fury and drove the blade into the side of the woman’s neck. Maleficent fell away from the King, clutching at her slashed throat. Emma's face was now splattered with blood. She looked like an animal.

Cruella and Ursula attempted to pull her away, but not before she was able to sever the rope from one of Regan’s wrists. He swiftly untied himself and drove his fist into Cruella’s face, breaking her nose in a single strike. Her head slammed against the wall roughly, knocking her unconscious.

The King dragged Ursula by the hair towards the tank of water where his people drank from and dunked her head in with a powerful roar of anger. She kicked and struggled, but after a while, her body fell limp, and he threw her aside like a rag doll.

Taking one of the torches from the wall, Regan approached Maleficent as she writhed in pain, bleeding out from her neck profusely. Her eyes were wide and tearful, staring up at him in terror as he knelt down beside her with a cold, angry expression.

“You bear the mark of the dragon,” he said stoically, “and so you shall return to the fire, where you belong, _witch.”_

He put the torch to her hair and set her head ablaze, and then he stood back as he watched her burn. She did not scream. Her windpipe had been severed. There was only the crackling of flames as they engulfed her tattooed body.

“Give my regards to Mother,” said the King.

He waited until there was nothing left of her but smoldering ashes before he turned and grabbed the last demon by the arms and dragged her along the ground behind him.

Once outside, the King whistled, and in the distance, he heard a pack of feral dogs howl and bark. The faintest hint of a smile graced his lips. Within minutes, the dogs came storming down the street towards the naked form of the demon with her painted face, and as they began tearing into her with their fangs, she regained consciousness. The blood-curdling screams that filled the darkness were music to the King’s ears.


	7. Birth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay.

In the nine months that had passed since Emma became pregnant, Regan had grown completely despondent. He couldn’t look at Emma without feeling aroused, and when he was aroused, he was reminded of his torment all over again. Those demons had violated him in every sense of the word. The torture they put him through would constantly replay in his disturbed mind, both in waking and in his dreams.

Emma was worried for the King’s well-being. He had not touched her since that night, and had put off the wedding until after their child was born. There were but two reasons Regan had not pressed a blade to his throat: one being the Princess, and the other, his unborn heir. He would not abandon them in this cold, cruel wasteland. Besides, what sort of King would he be if he took the coward’s way out?

At long last, the time came for Emma to give birth. Regan was right there by her side, clutching her hand with an iron grip. It was the first time in a long time that they had touched. Empire echoed with the blood-curdling screams of the Sunlight Princess as she went into labor. There was blood everywhere. Regan feared for the worst, but fortunately, Emma would go on to make a full recovery, and their child was completely healthy— perfect in every way.

It was a boy. They had a son. A beautiful baby boy who, despite his tears, was quick to drift into a deep slumber in his mother’s arms.

“What shall we call him?” Emma rasped.

“I wish to give him my father’s name,” Regan told her, “but I feel we must both come to an agreement.”

Emma offered him a faint smile. _“Henry,”_ she whispered, “It is a good name. I think it suits him.”

Regan kissed her forehead. “Then he shall be Prince Henry of the Dark Moon Empire,” he said, “and may he be truly great in his endeavors, no matter how small.”

* * *

Ten years came and went in what seemed like the mere blink of an eye. Henry was growing up so quickly, and his parents were having difficulty keeping up. Currently, Queen Emma was enjoying a nice, warm bath— a rare luxury, even for her— while her husband and son were out catching fish for the upcoming feast. They would be celebrating the anniversary of the royal wedding.

Regan aided Henry in aiming his arrow at a fish in the murky water, drawing the bowstring tight. “Carefully, my boy,” he said quietly, “Yes, just like that. Now release.”

Henry did so, and on his first try, he struck a fish with an arrow. The King ruffled his hair in a playful manner.

“You have made me proud, Henry,” said Regan, “Each day I grow more convinced that the Gods have blessed you.” He pulled his son into a tight embrace. “I know in my heart that you will one day be a greater King than I could ever hope to be.”

“You’re a wonderful King, Father,” Henry told him.

Regan smiled, though it did not reach his eyes.

Hours later, the people of Empire were gathered in the dining hall and enjoying the abundance of fish, beer, and bread provided by their gracious King. Regan was sitting alongside his family, enjoying their company in comfortable silence. After a bit, however, Henry looked to him expectantly.

“Father?”

“Yes?”

“Can I have some beer?”

Emma’s eyes widened, and she looked mortified. _“Absolutely n—”_

Regan guffawed. “Of course!” he declared, handing his drink to the boy.

Emma looked at her husband incredulously. _“Regan!_ He’s only a child!”

“Yes, but not for long,” said Regan, “Soon, he will be a man, and when that day comes, he can drink as much beer as he pleases.”

“Is that what your father told you when you were a boy?”

Regan nodded. “It is,” he said, “and it is what my grandfather said to him, as well.”

Before Emma could retort, there was a loud commotion outside and everyone looked to see some of the palace guards attempting to subdue a hooded stranger.

“You need to leave at once!” shouted one of the guards.

“No!” the hooded man snapped, “Not until I have what I came for!”

Regan stood up with a frown. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

“My King,” said the tallest of the guards, “this man insists on an audience with you and Her Majesty. He says it is urgent.”

Regan’s eyes narrowed as they fell upon the hooded man. “Take down your hood, stranger. If you wish to face me, then do so.”

The man threw back his dark hood, and when he did, Emma gasped.

_“August?”_

Regan looked to his wife in shock. “You know this man?”

“Yes,” the blonde said, still in awe, “We were good friends as children.” She stood from her chair and approached the cloaked man with a look of uncertainty. “What are you doing here, August?”

The man gaped at her. “What am I— you _must_ be joking,” he said incredulously, “You have been missing for a decade, Princess! Your mother and father have sent countless men looking for you, but none have returned. They told me that if I didn’t find you, they would kill me themselves. Please, Princess, come back to the Sunlight Kingdom. Your place is there, not in this— this _decrepit wasteland.”_

Emma glowered at him. “This ‘decrepit wasteland,’ as you put it, is my home,” she said firmly, “and I am no longer a Princess. I am the Queen of the Dark Moon Empire, and you will address me as such.”

August’s heart sank. “You have no desire to see your people again?”

 _“These_ are my people,” said Emma. She linked arms with Regan. “And this is my husband. I will not leave him.”

Just then, Regan’s eyes lit up. “My love, why don’t we both go to the Sunlight Kingdom? You know it has always been a dream of mine to see the sun.”

Emma looked at him with uncertainty. “What about Henry?”

“He will join us, of course. I will not deny him such an opportunity.”

“Very well,” said Emma. She locked eyes with August, who was visibly stunned. “I will accompany you to the old kingdom,” she told him, “but only with my family by my side. Otherwise, you can go back over the mountains and never return.”

August looked horrified. “What have they _done_ to you?” he whispered.

Emma laughed, though it was more out of bitterness than in jest. “They have made me happy,” she said, “and they have done more for me than my parents ever did. You may sleep in the guards' quarters. We will leave once we are well-rested.”

Henry went to his room, just across from his parents’, and Emma and Regan retired to bed. The King held his Queen close to him, lying silently for what seemed like an eternity.

Finally, he asked her, “Do you think your mother and father will take kindly to me?”

“If they don’t, then they will never see me again. You are my husband, no matter what,” Emma told him. She turned to face him and offered a light kiss. Her eyelids had begun to droop. “And I will love you until the end of time.”

“Likewise,” rasped the King. He held Emma just a bit tighter. “Sweet dreams, my Queen.”

But Emma was already asleep.


	8. The Sunlight Kingdom

Regan was as in awe of the Sun as its people were of him. He was living proof that the Dark Moon Empire existed and thrived beyond the Sacred Mountains, just as Emma had been in regards to the Sunlight Kingdom. The Sun was even more beautiful than he ever could have imagined. The warmth on his skin was unlike anything he had ever felt before.

“Emma, my love,” he whispered, “the beauty of the sun is second only to yours.”

Emma smiled softly and placed her hand over his. “My, aren’t you romantic? You should become a poet.”

Her smile would fall when the time came to reunite with her parents. They were, for the lack of a better term, _displeased._

“You foolish girl!” shouted her mother, “You run away, all on your own, to that— that _vile_ cesspool of debauchery and allow some _savage_ to have his filthy way with you! What is wrong with you?!”

Emma was furious. “That ‘savage’ is my husband, and he is the kindest, wisest, bravest man I have ever known. Do you know why I left this hellhole? Because you were going to force me into marrying some stranger I didn’t even know! I married Regan because I love him, and because he loves me! And for the record, I waited until _after_ I gave birth to Henry before I married the King!”

“You’re a filthy whore!”

Emma didn’t hesitate to slap her mother as hard as she possibly could. Her teeth and fists were clenched in rage. “Whores sell their bodies for coin,” she hissed, “I have only ever lain with _one man,_ and that man is my husband!”

She stormed out of the room before her mortified mother could even think of a response.

* * *

Regan was sitting with Emma to his left and Henry at his right, sawing away at the meat on his plate and wolfing it down. He paused when he heard someone clear their throat and looked up to find his wife’s mother glaring hatefully at him. He swallowed and sat back with a slight frown.

“Is something wrong, Your Majesty?”

The Sunlight Queen sneered at him. “Why yes,” she said, “My daughter whored herself out to a vile savage who has the _audacity_ to call himself a King!”

Regan’s eyes narrowed, but before he could speak, Emma beat him to it.

“Your daughter married a noble warrior who has _every right_ to call himself a King,” Emma said, fuming, “He is more of a leader than you could ever _hope_ to be.”

* * *

While Henry was out in the garden marveling over the flowers, something he had never seen before, he was approached by Prince Leo, who he supposed was his uncle despite them being the same age. It was immediately clear to Henry that Leo didn’t like him, which was disappointing. He was hoping they could have been friends.

“You don’t deserve to set foot in this garden,” Leo hissed, “You aren’t a royal, like me. You’re a savage just like the rest of your kind!”

Henry frowned. “My father is the King,” he said, “and he married your older sister. She will rule this kingdom one day, and when she is gone, I will take her place— not you.”

Leo bared his teeth in anger and swung his fist at Henry, but Henry was quicker. Leo’s eyes grew wide with horror when Henry landed a powerful punch to his face, knocking him to the ground. Blood dripped from his nose, and his eyes were wet with tears. Henry laughed at him, which only added fuel to the fire.

“You’ve never been in a fight, have you?” Henry scoffed. “Some Prince _you_ are.”

“Guards!” screamed Leo.

The guards came running and helped the Prince to his feet while detaining Henry.

“Are you alright, Your Highness?”

“No, I’m not alright! That little savage attacked me!”

The guards glared at Henry.

“Is this true?” one of them demanded.

Henry laughed. “Damn right it is, but only because he swung first. Too bad he can’t land a punch.”

The Sunlight Queen came storming towards them, seemingly out of nowhere. She was beyond furious, and chose to direct it at Henry.

“What the hell did you do to him, you little barbarian?!” she screamed.

Henry folded his arms. “I stood up for myself,” he said stoically, “just like my father taught me. Unlike your son, I actually know how to fight.”

The Queen sneered at him. “You’ll pay for this, you brat!”

She raised her hand as if to strike him, but before she could, she felt a firm grip on her wrist and gasped. She turned quickly to find Regan standing behind her with a hateful glare.

“Lay a hand on my son and you will soon see it cut from your wrist!” he threatened, and it was apparent to everyone that he meant every word. He let go of her and reached down to squeeze Henry’s shoulder. “What happened here?” he asked sternly.

“Leo tried to punch me, but unlike him, I didn’t miss.”

Regan laughed and ruffled his son’s hair. “That’s my boy.”

They walked off together while the Queen sent her son away to the court physician. She glared hatefully at Regan, knowing something had to be done about that barbarian and his hell-spawn.

* * *

As Regan was making his way through the corridor to his and Emma’s room, he sensed he was not alone. Just as he turned around, he was tackled to the floor by a masked man dressed entirely in black. The masked man was brandishing a knife and left a long, deep gash down the left side of Regan’s face.

“Something to remember me by,” the masked man taunted.

Fortunately, Regan was a skilled warrior who had been engaging in combat his entire life. He kicked the assailant off of him and grabbed the knife, which he then drove into the man’s chest. He bared his teeth in rage as he tore the mask off. The man had messy dark hair and pale green eyes, which were now clouded as the life had already faded from them. Regan stormed into the room, startling Emma. She gasped in horror when she saw his face.

“Regan! What happened?!”

Regan held up the man’s mask, enraged. “I was attacked in the corridor,” he seethed, “Someone wants me dead, and I believe I know who that _someone_ might be.”

Emma rushed past him and out into the hallway to find the dead assailant. “I don’t recognize this man,” she said, and her heart sank when she saw the small symbol on his sleeve, “but I _do_ know this crest. It belongs to the Order of Blacksun, the elite warriors who my mother often sends to eliminate her political opponents. We need to leave, Regan. _Now.”_

 _“Not so fast,”_ came the voice of the Queen.

Emma and Regan looked up, furious, to see her standing there with a handful of guards behind her.

“Guards, kill the savage,” she ordered, “and take my daughter to her room. There is _much_ we have to discuss.”

Emma ripped the knife from the dead man’s chest and took on a fighting stance. “Not a chance,” she hissed.

Regan unsheathed his own dagger, storming ahead of Emma to shield her as one of the guards came at him with a halberd. He narrowly dodged the attack, but was able to grab the staff and pry it from the guard’s hands. He then brought down his dagger and drove it into the man’s throat. The guard collapsed, and Regan now had his sights on the Sunlight Queen. His dark eyes burned with murderous rage and hatred.

“Only a coward would send another to do her bidding. Face me yourself!” he challenged.

Before the spiteful Queen could respond, her eyes grew impossibly-wide as a blade pierced her face, right between her eyes, and she collapsed, dead before she even hit the floor. Regan turned, ever so slowly, and stared at his wife in a mix of shock and pride.

“Remind me never to get on your bad side,” he joked.

Emma laughed. “When it comes to you and Henry, I don’t have one.”

Regan took down the other guard when the man charged at him, and he studied the halberd curiously.

“A fine weapon,” he said, “Yes, I believe I shall take this with me. I would like to create more for my men.”

“Let’s get Henry and get the hell out of here,” said Emma, “I should have known this would be a mistake.”

“Not entirely,” Regan said with a smile, “I still got to see the sun.”

* * *

“Find them!” the King demanded, “I want that savage and his spawn brought back alive, so that I, personally, may hear their screams as I cut away their skin, piece by piece!”

 _“Yes, Your Majesty,”_ the guards said in unison.

“And bring the Blacksun warriors with you! If you fail to do as I have asked, you will all meet that very same fate!”


	9. Invasion

The people of Empire celebrated the return of their King and Queen, and of course, their Prince. Alas, the merriment would not last. Not long after the trio had come home, warriors from the Sunlight Kingdom began to invade from the other side of the mountains. Regan and his army were able to fend the invaders off with their horses, something the Sun People had never seen before. Despite this, Regan recognized it as a temporary victory. They would be back. He needed to be ready when they did.

In desperation, Regan reluctantly called upon his estranged half-sister, Zelena. He had not seen her since they were very young. Cora never claimed her, but Zelena had made a name for herself all on her own as the leader of the Seers, a revered clan of oracles. Much to the King’s relief, his sister answered his call.

“Hello, Your Majesty,” she said stoically upon her arrival, “I was wondering when you would summon me.”

Regan arched an eyebrow. “You _knew?”_

“Of course. I _am_ a Seer, after all,” said Zelena. She traced the scar on the side of his face. “I also knew you would get this scar. I simply didn’t know _how_ or _when.”_

“Then you must also know why I sent for you.”

Zelena nodded, her expression grim. “A war is coming,” she said, “I have already informed the other clans. They have agreed to join you, despite what you did to their former leaders.”

Regan turned away in shame and anger. “Yes, well, those demons got _exactly_ what they deserved,” he said, “I do not wish to speak of them any longer. Let us formulate a strategy, sister.”

A faint smile graced Zelena’s lips. “I am honored, Your Majesty, that you would still consider me your sister.”

“We may have had different fathers, but we still share blood,” said Regan, “and you need not address me by title. Before I am your King, I shall always be your brother.”

Zelena nodded. “Right,” she said, placing a hand on the King’s shoulder, “and you shall always have my support, Regan.”

And so, as the Sun People continued to descend from the mountaintops, they found a horde of savages awaiting them with iron horses. Fighting alongside the people of Empire were the five clans: the Seers, the Archers, the Berserkers, the Serpentines, and the Mariners. The latter three still had a bone to pick with Regan for murdering their former leaders, but they would settle that dispute another day, if they managed to live long enough for such an occasion.

Emma remained up in the tower with Henry, wishing she could do something to help her husband, but Regan had practically threatened her, demanding that she stay behind and look after their boy. Henry was trying to be like his father and mask his fear with a stoic expression, but Emma saw right through him.

“It’s alright to be afraid, Henry,” she said softly.

“I— I’m not afraid!” he argued, but the crack in his voice gave him away. He ducked his head in shame as Emma pulled him into a gentle embrace.

“You don’t have to hide your feelings,” she said.

“But if I show fear, how can I be brave?” Henry asked her.

Emma smiled softly. “Being brave isn’t about not showing fear. It’s about showing courage in _spite_ of that fear. Do you understand? Your father is brave because he is out fighting against the Sun People, and I’m certain he’s terrified.”

“Father? _Terrified?”_ Henry asked in disbelief, “That’s impossible! He can’t feel fear! He’s the King! And he was named after a God!”

Emma chuckled and shook her head. “No, Henry,” she murmured, “He is still human, as we all are.”

“But he’s a _great_ one,” Henry insisted.

Emma nodded. “That he is,” she said, playfully ruffling his hair, “and so are you.”

* * *

The Sunlight Warriors retreated back over the Sacred Mountains, having lost most of their army, as they were not adept at fighting in the darkness. It was a terrible loss. An utter disgrace. The King would surely have their heads for this. They had failed in the worst of ways.

As for the Dark Moon Empire, there were many casualties, though far fewer than those of the Sun People. Hundreds were killed. The rest were wounded, some worse than others. Regan’s wounds were severe, but he was strong. He refused to die. If Death came for him, he would spit in the Reaper’s face in defiance and return to his mortal coil. He did end up surviving, but the same could not be said for Mulan, one of his finest warriors and greatest friends.

Mulan’s injuries were far worse, but she had fought valiantly with her blade. That very blade now marked the grave where she had been buried. Her body was now deep with the earth at Zoo, something she had once asked Regan to do for her when her time came. The King would not break his promise to her. She was buried among the tigers.

Mulan’s lover, Red, wept endlessly over her death, lying in a fetal position next to her grave. It seemed that this loss took a toll on Red both mentally and physically, as she simply lied down and died shortly after. She was buried next to her lover out of respect for both of them.

As of now, Regan was recovering in his bed, left with no choice but to command his army from inside the walls of Empire. He gave his orders through Zelena. At this very moment, he was sitting up in bed with bandages around his stomach and arms. He had been thrown from his horse and subsequently broken his right leg, which was in a tourniquet. He was in a great deal of pain, but it seemed to dissipate when Henry appeared in the doorway.

“Father?” Henry asked with uncertainty.

“Come here, boy,” Regan said with a wide smile, “Come and sit with me.”

Henry took a seat at the edge of the bed and tensed when the King ruffled his hair. Regan sensed his unease and grew concerned.

“What troubles you, young blood?”

Henry hesitated. “I was afraid, Father,” he confessed, “I was afraid you would end up like Mulan.”

Regan held the boy close to him. “Be not afraid, my son,” he said softly, “for if I should meet the Gods, you will inherit my throne and the Dark Moon Empire shall bow to you.”

“But what if that isn’t what I want?” Henry asked, “There is no greater ruler than you, Father.”

Regan sighed. “You know, I once thought the same of _my_ father,” he said, “He was a great King, and someday, my son, you shall be as well. I named you in his honor, Henry.”

He reached down into the old leather satchel next to his bed and pulled out a beaded necklace with several sharp fangs fixed to it.

Henry was in awe. “Father? Is that—”

“A necklace made with the fangs of tigers,” said Regan, “Yes. Your grandfather wore one much like it.”

“How long have you had that?” asked Henry.

“Since I took the throne,” Regan told him, “Cora always insisted I wear it, as it has always been worn by great kings, but you see, Henry, I have never seen myself that way.” He carefully placed the sacred object around his son’s neck. “But you, young blood, shall be the greatest of them all. I have seen it in my dreams. It would seem that I share my sister’s gift of foresight.”

Henry was stunned as he touched the fangs that hung from the necklace. Tears welled in his eyes as he met his father’s warm gaze.

“You _are_ a great king, Father,” he argued.

“No, my boy. Look what has happened because of me. Our people are being slaughtered out there, and I am in here, unable to help them. I am weak, Henry. A king can never be weak, for without him, his people will perish, as he will without his people.”

Henry’s heart sank. “You’re dying, aren’t you?” he rasped.

Regan pulled the boy into a tight embrace. “No, young blood,” he said, “Someday, yes, but not _this_ day.”

There were tears in Henry’s eyes. “Do you promise?”

Regan smiled faintly. “I swear it in the name of Eric.”


End file.
